06-23-2023, 11:23 PM
Zixin sure as shit wasn’t going to judge Tan Li’s shitty warmup routine. The guy would know what his own body was capable of handling. Zixin wouldn’t hold back, though. If he ended up with a ruptured bicep tendon, it was his own lazy-ass fault.
So, after finishing his current set to loosen up the wrists, Zixin sauntered to the rack. A woman entered by then, doing her own stretches. She was just close enough to curl up one of Zixin’s famously flat brows with curiosity. Was she the movie star’s dark flower? God now that was a term of endearment. Who knew Li was so damn poetic?
Zixin twisted as he passed her, walking backward and half-assedly obscuring pointing in her general direction and mouthing: ’T h a t _ h e r? between smirks. Then an even less obscured mouthing followed: ’da-am.’
The rack was full of options. Zixin spied his favorite sword, which could match up with the blades he brought himself. The Red Star's version was dulled but still hurt like a mother when it connected, but he decided to hold off. He wanted to see what Li was made of.
So he grabbed a pair of strike pads and gloves. Zixin’s own wrists were wrapped, but he wasn’t up for Muy Thai style training at the moment. For now, he shoved on the pads, slapped them together with a loud thud, and a grin sparked at the noise echoing across the gym.
“Let’s see what you got,” he called out to Li as he returned. He held up his arms, strike pads at the ready, and gave the signal to go.
So, after finishing his current set to loosen up the wrists, Zixin sauntered to the rack. A woman entered by then, doing her own stretches. She was just close enough to curl up one of Zixin’s famously flat brows with curiosity. Was she the movie star’s dark flower? God now that was a term of endearment. Who knew Li was so damn poetic?
Zixin twisted as he passed her, walking backward and half-assedly obscuring pointing in her general direction and mouthing: ’T h a t _ h e r? between smirks. Then an even less obscured mouthing followed: ’da-am.’
The rack was full of options. Zixin spied his favorite sword, which could match up with the blades he brought himself. The Red Star's version was dulled but still hurt like a mother when it connected, but he decided to hold off. He wanted to see what Li was made of.
So he grabbed a pair of strike pads and gloves. Zixin’s own wrists were wrapped, but he wasn’t up for Muy Thai style training at the moment. For now, he shoved on the pads, slapped them together with a loud thud, and a grin sparked at the noise echoing across the gym.
“Let’s see what you got,” he called out to Li as he returned. He held up his arms, strike pads at the ready, and gave the signal to go.